KO: Kingdom Overture
by Murasaki-no-Ou
Summary: MiSaru: It's been almost a year since the death of the Red King. Yata thinks he's got his life back in order, but the murder of the Gold King leads to a number of dark secrets being revealed. The real reason behind the Red and Blue Clans' enmity. The identity of Yata's deadbeat father. The origin of the Slate. Can Yata and Fushimi get through this with their relationship intact?
1. Prelude

**WARNING (IMPORTANT!): **This chapter contains a bad prologue. It's really rushed cause it's basically a fast-forward of everything that occurred between the end of the anime and the beginning of this fic. It's kind of boring in my opinion, and ends way too abruptly, but please do read it through, because it does have relevant details that will be necessary to understand the plot later. Plus, I don't like beginning a story without grounding the readers in the setting first. I promise the coming chapters will be better.

* * *

The following are the events, in chronological order, that led up to the day the fate of the world was to be decided.

* * *

_Chapter 1: Prelude_

* * *

On this, the 17th of December, 2012, the Red King died. (1)

People would later say otherwise, but the truth remains that this was the event that triggered the chaos, and subsequent change, that was soon to come. For someone that believed his flames burnt down everything without leaving a single trace, his death certainly did leave behind a whole lot of blood, bones, and ashes.

* * *

On that same day, two lost souls set out in search for _their _King – believed to be dead, but Kuroh and Neko had nothing to lose and so searched anyway.

* * *

On this, the 18th of December, 2012, the Blue King did not come out of his room.

The day before, now officially known as "_that _day," the victorious Captain of Scepter 4 had walked up to his clan covered in blood and with a visible crack in his spectacles, greeted by cheers and smiling faces as the Blue clan rejoiced the fact that their King was safe. He, however, walked right past them, into the car, and stayed quiet for the rest of the journey back to headquarters. Once there, he'd holed himself up in his room. And morning came, but he still did not come out.

Little did his clansmen know that it would be quite a long, _long _wait for him to do so.

* * *

On this, the 15th of January, 2013, HOMRA fell apart.

Prior to this, most of the members had already left without notice, and others did their best to come up with legitimate excuses, although they were, consequently, chased out by the angry flames of their vanguard. The few that remained – Shouhei, Bandou, Chitose, Dewa, Eric, Fujishima, Kamamoto, and of course Yata and Anna – were determined to hold on to their fading bond, Yata especially. Until Kusanagi yelled at him not to be selfish and that HOMRA was over.

Silence fell and one by one, the dejected members began to leave, and Kamamoto had to drag out a very broken Yata.

* * *

On that same day, Kusanagi spent the night with _her._

The woman whom he loved and yet never had the guts to propose to – Awashima Seri. He had hoped to find in her some kind of solace and comfort, something, _anything_, that would tell him he had made the right decision and that all hope was not lost. So when she stormed into the bar, weeping and nearly hysterical, crying that the Captain was not being himself and that he stared into space and didn't hear a word she said to him and what was she to do, _oh, what was she to do!?_, he grabbed her and kissed her and…

He thought she'd be his saving grace.

But, once the moment was over and both were lying, naked and silent, on his bed; she abruptly got up, got dressed, whispered a hurried "I'm sorry" and walked away, not once turning back. Kusanagi let out a bitter laugh. Things could only be that easy in fairytales, anyway, and his life was far from being one.

* * *

On this, the 7th of April, 2013, two armed Scepter 4 members stormed into Bar HOMRA and demanded that Kushina Anna be put into their custody.

With the death of Suoh Mikoto, she no longer had a legal guardian, they'd said; and hence ("in accordance with the Special Phenomena Control Act Exception Article 2") she was now an unregistered Strain and needed to be handed over to Scepter 4 immediately. It was a good thing the remaining eight members of HOMRA had been so stubborn in coming to the bar, because with their help, Kamamoto and Anna managed to escape via a back door and were never seen or heard from again.

* * *

On this, the 8th of April, 2013, HOMRA lost their third pillar.

No one would have guessed judging by his attitude that Kusanagi Izumo had suffered at all, even after the loss of two of his dearest friends. Because, while everyone else was wallowing in the depths of despair, Kusanagi would go on as usual with a smile on his face and the charade that everything was alright.

But even if Kusanagi _looked _fine, in truth, he _wasn't_, because all he did was watch the tapes made by Totsuka and glance through old photo albums and talk to himself whilst in Mikoto's old room, never once admitting that he, too, was hurting; that he, too, needed an outlet. And all of that pain welled up inside of him, never being allowed to get out, until it broke him, bit by agonizing bit.

Kamamoto and Anna's departure was the single spark that lit the flame.

Quite literally, it seemed, because the seven remaining HOMRA members came by the bar, hoping to wish their beloved Kusanagi-san a happy birthday and maybe get him to come outside, only to find…none. Bar HOMRA, their home, their shelter, their refuge, their pride; had been razed to the ground by a fire so bright it lit up the sky with brilliant orange streaks. No corpse was found, but they did manage to salvage a note that said "goodbye" and "sorry" and "the memories were too painful to keep". (2)

* * *

On this, the 9th of April, 2013, Awashima Seri attended the funeral of the man she truly loved but was too afraid to admit to that.

But it was too late now, and as she watched his casket being lowered, she subconsciously placed a hand on her belly and cried, silent and lonely tears. "Lieutenant," Fushimi whispered from her right, in an awkward manner – the kid was obviously really bad at comforting people. "You look…too pale." Blunt, straight to the point, like Fushimi usually talked.

Awashima's voice was hoarse when she answered. "I'm pregnant. He's the father."

* * *

On this, the 10th of April, 2013, two hearts reunited.

Fushimi found Misaki sprawled on the ground of a remote alleyway, bruised and bloodied and crying; and when he rushed over, for once forgetting their enmity, he only heard a strangled sob and a cry of "I can't use it, I can't use it, Saruhiko, what should I do!?" And when Fushimi asked what it was that Misaki couldn't use, a shaky palm lifted and tried to ignite a flame, which immediately spluttered out and left the user in a crying mess once again.

* * *

On that same day, Fushimi stayed over at Misaki's apartment. Not many words were exchanged while they, in a drunken haze, came together; and by the time it was over Misaki was fast asleep. Fushimi wanted to leave before he woke up, but the pain in his lower back that was the result of taking on all of Misaki's frustrations wouldn't let him. (3)

At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

* * *

On this, the 23rd of May, 2013, word spread about a new book being released in the USA.

_Memories of Red_, a fantasy-fiction novel written by one Eric Soult (4), an American 19-year-old raised in Japan who had just recently returned to the States "for personal reasons", sold thousands of copies by the end of the week. The young author received so much acclaim he became a celebrity overnight, his good looks helping a lot in that area. But, charming as he was, his fans simply could not understand when in a TV show he was told that the book held so much emotion it was almost as if Eric himself had experienced it, why Eric had discreetly turned away from the camera and mumbled something about "dust in his eyes".

* * *

On this, the 1st of June, 2013, Yata, red-faced and avoiding eye contact, tossed Saruhiko the spare keys to his apartment.

"If you want to come over, just let yourself in rather than waiting outside for me all the time," he murmured. Saruhiko only stared unblinkingly at the keys in his hand, before pocketing them quietly, bending his head just _so_, hoping Yata wouldn't notice his smile, although he did. "Saruhiko…?" Yata began, and when his lover(?) looked up, the sun reflecting off of his glasses at _just _the right angle, creating a little sparkle, he had to hold in a breath. _(Stupid monkey had to be so goddamn beautiful…) _He paused, then shook his head. "…Never mind."

The truth had still not come out as yet, and they were still in the process of healing _(communication is still a big issue)_, but that was okay. Anything was okay. Because they were together again.

* * *

On this, the 19th of June, 2013, confessions were finally made.

Yata didn't quite remember how exactly the fight had started, but the way it ended would sure as hell stay with him for all of eternity. Saruhiko's big emotional blowup, and finally, finally the truth behind why he'd been so sullen whilst in HOMRA and why he'd left and why those scars on his wrist were so damn prominent; all of it came out like a broken dam. Saruhiko had been crying like Yata had never seen him cry before, but he was too numb, too in shock to do anything about it.

Saruhiko left.

Saruhiko _left._

And the realization of that finally, finally hit home; and Yata chased after him like a man possessed.

* * *

On this, the 20th of June, 2013, Fushimi slept in, and lived to regret it.

Coming out of the Scepter 4 dorms, he had dragged himself to his office only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of a familiar redhead sitting, stone-still, on the steps outside the building. "That HOMRA punk's been here since yesterday," Domyouji explained, a hint of disgust in his voice. "He asked to see you, but I said he couldn't come in without a pass and he declared that he would wait outside until he saw you."

Fushimi gaped. "…In _that _weather?" For it had been raining, and heavily, too, all night. (5)

Domyouji nodded. "I figured if he wanted to catch pneumonia so bad, what business is it of mine – Fushimi-san!?" that having been added when Fushimi sprang outside and slapped Misaki across the face a couple of times, trying and failing to wake him up. "Here, help me carry him upstairs!" he ordered Domyouji, who immediately obeyed, confused but nonetheless ever ready to obey a superior.

* * *

On that same day, Yata woke up to the second and last time that he would ever see Saruhiko lose his composure. "What the hell were you thinking, you idiot!?" the Scepter 4 Second Lieutenant (6) demanded, angrily shaking him though his eyes held only sadness. "I'm…sorry…" Yata managed to rasp out, and lift a hand to cup his lover's face. "I'm so…sorry…"

Saruhiko bit his lip, and Yata knew they still had a ways to go before the monkey could really, truly say "I forgive you" and mean it.

"Mikoto-san…Totsuka-san…and Kusanagi-san…they're all gone…" he continued. "All I have left is you!"

Saruhiko visibly swallowed. "…And you won't have _me _either if you keep doing stupid things like that!"

Yata smiled anyway, because that was just Saruhiko's way of saying they were together again, and that they still had a chance. Later, as the days and months progressed, their love revived and grew even stronger, eventually becoming a full-fledged flame bright enough to make up for the loss of the fire aura that still resided in Yata's body but refused to come out, possibly due to trauma.

But that was okay. Anything was okay. And Yata was sure he'd already mentioned why.

* * *

On this, the 1st of July, 2013, a pair of lost souls continued on their journey.

"Are you sure our King is alive?" Kuroh had asked once, only to receive an angered hiss from Neko that was so bitter it managed to surprise even _him. _"Of course he is!" Neko angrily yelled. "Because Shiro is Wagahai-chan's Shiro and Shiro said he would always be with Wagahai-chan and Shiro is the Silver King and the Silver King is immortal and KUROSUKE IS AN IDIOT NYAA!"

Kuroh wasn't entirely sure that last part was necessary, but he walked on behind her anyway.

* * *

…On this, the midnight hour of the 21st of July, 2013, a day after Yata Misaki turned 20, something happened.

Something big. (7)

* * *

**Footnotes (Yes, they are important): **

**(1) **GoRA Yellow tweeted that Weismann's birthday was in 1922, and since he's 90 years old in the anime that does prove that the events in K unfolded in 2012.

**(2) **I know, I know, you hate me for killing off the guy on his birthday -_- But I wanted it to be as canon as possible and the tweets say that Kusanagi will be gone and that he'll be 27 years old in the sequel, so I put two and two together and thought, what the heck? Sue me.

**(3) **I ship MiSaru more than SaruMi ^_^

**(4) **GoRA cleared the Surt/Sutr confusion and released his official surname as SOULT. Keep that in mind.

**(5) **June is the beginning of the rainy season in India. Not sure how it is in Japan, but meh. :/

**(6) **I'm not sure what Fushimi's rank in Scepter 4 actually is, but what I do know (from Side: Blue) is that Akiyama, Benzai, Camo and Domyouji are squad captains; Enomoto, Fuze, Gotoh, and Hidaka are in Domyouji's squad; and that Fushimi is in a position higher than Akiyama. And since the only thing higher than a squad captain is a Lieutenant, and Awashima already has that title, I just made Fushimi the Second Lieutenant. :/ Seems legit.

**(7) **Dun dun dun! ...Or not. -_- The ending fell flat. I know. Sue me. Or don't. I don't know.

SO, I was told that the K fandom is smaller than the Naruto fandom so I won't get as many reviews as I used to. Feel free to prove me wrong! ^_~


	2. Renaissance

Something about the midnight hour always seemed to attract death, mused the old Lieutenant Kokujyouji Daikaku as he felt his very life slipping through his fingers. It was probably better, he reasoned, better to die at the hands of a cold-blooded murderer knowing he had put up a fight than to fade away because of his old age like some sort of weakling. He had lived his life as a warrior, and had long since been prepared to embrace the death of a warrior.

With fading vision he glanced up at the golden Sword of Damocles as it broke into little sparkles that would soon be carried away by the wind. Vaguely he wondered where his killer had gone, but then remembered that the person had managed to slip past security _and _the scrutiny of the Slate itself, something that he had always thought was impossible. Perhaps whoever it was, wasn't a human at all. That would be…some form of…consolation…knowing…the defeat…was justified…

The dawn of July the 22nd at Mihashira Tower was announced by a bloodcurdling scream.

* * *

_Chapter 2: Renaissance_

* * *

When news of the murder first reached his ears, Fushimi's first thought was sushi.

His second thought was that it was a shame, losing the man that practically ruled the country and all, but his third reverted back to the fact that he would miss his lunch date with Misaki at that new sushi place, and he had to resist the urge to pout. They barely saw each other as it was, considering the fact that the Captain was only half himself and the Lieutenant was confined to deskwork for the duration of her pregnancy, which meant that Fushimi had to take on _both _their jobs alone. He clicked his tongue in irritation.

"Who's in charge here?" he questioned in a bored monotone, waltzing into the crime scene flanked by Akiyama and Benzai on both sides. The officers from Metro PD were obligated to salute them, but Fushimi did notice the resentment in their eyes even as they did so. Scepter 4 was known to them as something of a big-shot government organization that was far too well-paid and whose members often looked down at regular policemen. Not that that was too far from the truth.

A man stepped away from the group crowding around the body of the Gold King. "Scepter 4? Patrol Officer Tamura, I'm leading the Riot Squad and this case." Fushimi nodded in acknowledgment, though he ignored the hand that was offered for him to shake. "Alright, please take your men and leave." When Tamura just gave him a confused stare, Akiyama hurriedly stepped in to explain. "What we mean is that regarding this…incident, transfer of authority from the Metropolitan Police Department over to Scepter 4 has been recognized by the Bureau. Level code Prussian Blue," he added, producing the documents that said so.

Tamura frowned. "…But, we never requested a transfer…this isn't a Beta Case…"

"The death of a King – " Fushimi paused to remind himself to use the technical term rather than what clansmen usually called them, " – I mean, Ex-A, becomes a Beta Case by default, unless his or her death had natural causes." He watched Tamura process the information. "Only an Ex-A or a – what do you call a Strain, a _supe _or something, right?" and here he received a faint nod, " – A supe with exceptional abilities can kill another Ex-A. That makes this a Beta Case falling under Scepter 4's jurisdiction. Please call your men off."

"Er…roger," Patrol Officer Tamura saluted, looking like his brain had committed suicide sometime during that explanation.

Fushimi sighed. "Alright, what have we got?" he questioned, not really turning back to look at Akiyama.

"Metro PD Forensics place the time of death at around midnight," the olive-haired squad captain announced, reading off of his tablet. "It looks like the Gold King resisted – " at which point Fushimi snorted sarcastically; as if that hadn't been obvious enough by the fact that _half the tower _had been reduced to ashes, and would probably have collapsed if it hadn't been for the defensive shield that the Slate had created around itself, " – no traces left by the killer," Akiyama was saying. "The person that discovered the corpse was the King's nurse, it seems, a…Tanuki-san?"

"_Takumi_-san," Benzai corrected, although he had to admit the old woman's resemblance to a tanuki was rather uncanny. Akiyama nodded. "Takumi-san. According to her statement, no one heard any noise coming from the King's bedroom…even the Rabbits are saying nothing was out of the ordinary. The nurse discovered his corpse when she came in to give him a – " Akiyama cringed. " – Personal…um…er…never mind. Do you want us to re-interrogate her, Fushimi-san?"

Fushimi waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "You do that. I'll be right there."

With his subordinates out of sight, Fushimi finally pulled out his PDA and typed in a hurried text message telling Misaki he wouldn't be able to make it. "Something urgent came up," he added, not really giving away any details – call him paranoid, but PDAs were just so easy to hack these days, and he would know, having done so himself countless times. He pressed send, eyes glued to the screen, so he didn't really notice the woman coming up behind him.

"Out of the way, fucking Blue," a rough voice growled at him, making him raise an eyebrow as he turned to see who it was. The lady(?) wore surgical gloves and a black-and-gray jacket with the words 'medical examiner' printed across the back, her hair pulled into a bun and tucked away under a netted cap. She was huge, in more ways than one, and wore so much makeup her face looked like a painted canvas. Fushimi sidestepped and let her pass.

"…I hope you didn't mess up my crime scene," the woman grumbled, obviously having anticipated some form of retaliation from Fushimi after calling him a "fucking Blue", and uncertain how to respond when she _wasn't _given any. Fushimi almost smirked at that. "Don't worry, your precious crime scene hasn't moved an inch," he half-joked. "Did you finish picking him apart yet?" To which he received a mildly surprised expression.

"Ya don't mince words, huh?" the woman seemed amused. "Nah, I just got here myself. I heard ya'll are taking over the case, well, don't worry, we'll let you know if anything's out of the ordinary."

"Please do," Fushimi said, already bored of the conversation. Ugh, the stupid old man couldn't wait a _day _to die so Fushimi could get some well-deserved rest…?

"Strange," he heard the woman mumble, which made him turn and give her a questioning glance which she couldn't see, poised as she was on her haunches next to the body. Her fingers were prying open the wound on the Gold King's chest, which was on some level highly disturbing, but her attention was on her PDA, which had slipped out of her pocket and onto the floor, most probably whilst she had been bending down to get a closer look.

"Is something wrong?" Fushimi questioned, stepping closer to where she was. The woman nodded her head slowly. "I'm not sure whether it has anything to do with the body or if it's just my PDA acting up, though," she said. "Could ya bring yours a tad closer and see if the same thing's happening?" Fushimi wanted to ask what "thing", but decided it would be best to humor her if he didn't want to get attacked by a woman the size of a sumo wrestler. He bent down next to the Gold King's body and waved his PDA near the open wound.

A gasp escaped the woman's mouth, and Fushimi had to drop his PDA when he felt the sudden sting that coursed through his veins. Having joined the woman's on the floor, both PDAs were now displaying a screen of dancing static – but Fushimi's was emitting an array of sparks as well. Something clicked in his head and he glanced down at the hand that had just felt pricked.

So that's what it was – electricity.

* * *

Yata, meanwhile, had been pissed as hell when he received the text.

Not at Saru, of course – it wouldn't be the first time the monkey had stood him up, and, considering all the crap he'd been going through because of Yata himself, he probably deserved it – but at Scepter 4, for being so annoyingly busy all the damn time. He was pretty sure the Blues' workload hadn't been _this _bad a couple of months ago, seeing as how the monkey always seemed to have time to come pick a fight. It was natural, he supposed, since HOMRA wasn't around to help out with keeping rogue Strains in line.

Yata shook his head, his thoughts having taken a rather depressing turn. Don't dwell on the past, he reminded himself, even though that was easier said than done. Hopping on the borrowed Vespa he'd been given for his…_job_, he revved it up and sped down the lane in the direction of home. His mind wandered to the fresh produce he'd managed to find at the market the other day, and he chuckled as he began to plot ways with which he could fool Saruhiko into eating the vegetables. Maybe if he grinded that coriander bunch into powder and –

He came to a screeching halt that nearly sent him flying. "WHAT THE FUCK!?" he shouted, glaring at the person that had crossed the street without warning. Yata had nearly run the guy over; admittedly because he had been speeding, but still! The idiot should've known to wait for a red light at least! The man turned to face him, and Yata's eyes widened.

The front of his shirt was covered in blood, but, judging from the man's clearly _not _pained expression, it wasn't his.

The man, in turn, seemed to have frozen on the street, until the cars behind Yata honked and yelled at him to pass. That, apparently, succeeded in jerking him out of his shock so he could run down the opposite street. Yata watched him go, all of his instincts warning him not to follow. He slowly continued driving, wondering what the heck had just happened.

He wasn't sure if it had just been his imagination, but he thought the man had said, "It's you," when he saw Yata's face.

* * *

He found all of the lights off when he entered Misaki's apartment, so Fushimi assumed his lover wasn't home.

He clicked his tongue. That usually meant that Misaki had a job to do, and Fushimi would have to spend the night lonely and worried sick that Misaki wouldn't come home at all, not that he would let it show on his face. Misaki never really clarified what it was that he did, and the one time Fushimi brought it up, he was told not to ask questions he didn't want answers to. All he knew was that whatever it was couldn't possibly be legal, and _that_ meant that Misaki would be amongst people that probably still held grudges against HOMRA and would therefore, be in great danger, considering he _still _couldn't summon his fire yet.

Again, he clicked his tongue. Here he was. Alone. And worried sick.

Deciding he would wait for Misaki to come home, Fushimi walked past the kitchen and through the corridor to where he knew the bedroom was. From that close, Fushimi could sense a familiar and comforting presence, which meant that Misaki _was _home after all. That made him smile, involuntarily, and release a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding. Pushing the bedroom door open with a finger, he stepped inside.

Misaki was asleep, curled up on the unmade bed, with an open manga across his face. Fushimi really did smile this time, shrugging out of his Scepter 4 jacket and laying it across the sleeping figure. Gently taking the manga off of his face, he reached over Misaki, attempting to leave it on the cabinet/headrest, but accidentally brushing against his lover in the process. Misaki gave a little groan and subconsciously pulled Fushimi's jacket closer before lazily opening his eyes. Those chestnut-brown wonders blinked a little, trying to make out Fushimi's face, and then Misaki smiled. "Hey."

It had been eight months now, and Fushimi still couldn't get used to the fact that Misaki's smile was for _him _and him only.

Trying to keep his expression neutral, he replied by nudging Misaki over to 'his' side of the bed and climbing on. "Hey," he muttered. "I thought you weren't home." Misaki yawned a little and turned on his PDA watch, which made both of them flinch because of the sudden light. When their eyes finally adjusted, Misaki merely shrugged. "Guess I fell asleep…? Sorry. I haven't made anything yet."

Fushimi hummed in reply. "Doesn't matter. Wasn't that hungry anyways." Letting the comfortable silence stretch on for a while, Fushimi narrowed his eyes in contemplation. "So…did you hear about the Gold King?" He could swear he felt Misaki _cringe_. The whole ordeal with HOMRA had left Misaki shunning the world of Kings and clansmen. It was almost taboo to mention them now, but Fushimi felt he needed to know.

Misaki shook his head. "No. Why, what happened?"

He had expected that answer, Fushimi supposed, but hearing the once-proud vanguard of HOMRA saying he didn't know news as big as that would still take some getting used to. "He died, today," Fushimi said. "Murdered at midnight yesterday." Misaki's eyes did widen at that. For someone to be killed a day after his birthday was rather disturbing. "Whoa," Misaki took in a breath. "…Kinda hard to imagine someone strong enough to kill _that _old man."

Fushimi's eyes narrowed. "That's what I was thinking too. And there's been some…_interesting_…developments in the case that made it seem as though it definitely was a King that did it…" he trailed off a little, "…Well actually, _one _King in particular…" If Misaki heard that, he ignored it, and Fushimi gave a little sigh, realizing that that was Misaki's way of saying he needed to stop talking about _that _world, the one that held so many painful memories for him. "So, how was your day?" he changed the subject.

Misaki made that face he usually made when he was thinking about something serious, the one that looked like a cross between a pout and a frown. If Fushimi was a fangirl, he'd be squealing. "I just had the strangest dream," Misaki was saying, and Fushimi lifted his head a little, supporting it with his arm and elbow, so Misaki would know he had his full attention. "About…my _dad_."

Fushimi frowned. Misaki's _mom _he'd met (and God help him forget that scary experience), but Misaki had never once brought up his father. Fushimi had just assumed he was dead. Never one to sugarcoat things, he said so. "I thought your dad was dead." Misaki nodded as if to affirm his statement, but then shook his head, like he was having an internal argument with himself. "Well that's the thing. I don't really know. Heck, I don't even know _who _my dad is," he paused, letting that sink in.

Fushimi nodded. "Go on."

"Well…" Misaki sighed. "I've never had a dad, in fact, I don't think he was even there when I was born. Mom never really brought him up, you know, and…to tell you the truth, I don't think even _she _knows for sure who it was." Fushimi nodded again. Not an uncommon predicament, this side of Tokyo. "But in my dream…he seemed so…_real_," Misaki continued. "Not only that, but he was _young_. He had this like…wild 80's Mohawk thing, although it was long – " Fushimi raised an eyebrow at that – "And his hair was red. But not like, my red. Heck, not even _blood _red like…like _him,_" Fushimi nodded, knowing he meant Mikoto but couldn't bear to say his name. "It was more like…crimson. Really, really, deep crimson."

"Did he look a lot like you?" Fushimi questioned, honestly curious.

Misaki shook his head. "Not really. But he had eyes like mine, though. And he wore this gangster jacket thing which was so incredibly old-fashioned – I mean, no one does that anymore. It was black leather, and long, and everything," he chuckled, making Fushimi smile a little. "And on the back of it, there was this weird symbol," Misaki frowned. "A phoenix, I think. A red phoenix with these spread wings…which were kind of cool. But anyway, this guy – my dad – climbed on this completely outdated motorcycle and revved it up, but then he turned, and he _winked _at me." Misaki's expression suddenly took on a look of horror. "You don't think that's an omen do you!? I'm too young to die!"

Fushimi gently tapped him on the head. "Such an idiot." Really, some people never completely grew up. But he supposed, that was what made Misaki, Misaki.

They lay next to each other in silence for a while, just reveling in that feeling of being together and yet completely immersed in their own thoughts without feeling the need to force a conversation. A while passed and Fushimi pressed himself closer to Misaki, feeling the other rest his head on his chest. Smirking, Fushimi playfully pushed him off. "Still a little midget, Misaki. Haven't you been drinking your milk lately?"

Misaki glared at him. "I've actually grown taller since December!"

Fushimi gave him a look that clearly said that was hard to believe.

Misaki fumed. "It's true! I'm 170 cm now! Eight more inches to catch up to you, monkey!"

Fushimi laughed, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Keep dreaming, Misaki~."

He found himself praying this peace would last forever.

* * *

**Important Footnotes:**

Mihashira Tower: That tower where the Gold King stays -_- you know, from episode 9? Where Munakata gets attacked by the freaking Solar System?

Beta Case: The regular policemen use this term to refer to cases that involve Strains or clansmen. (From Side: Blue)

Ex-A: Extra-Alpha, the official term for a King. (From BD Vol. 5 Glossary)

Supe: Short for 'super-powered', police jargon for Strain and clansmen. (From Side: Blue)

Tanuki: Beaver :3

So, half of Mihashira Tower was in ashes but no one heard a sound, and you ask me why? Hmm, I don't know either. Maybe the next chapter will explain it? *wink wink* ^_^

What is Yata's job? Fufufu...not telling -_-

Ooh, the man covered in blood is the killer! :o ...Not. As if it's ever that easy. -_-

Yata's father! O_O And no, it's not an OC :3 Fufufu...

Those of you that know me from _The Unexpected_ will know that my update day is Friday :3 for those that don't, well, now you do.

So, review, yeah?


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